


Marzipan

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Ace Trans Jughead, Asexual Character, Dysphoria, Gen, Get together fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild slash/implied slash, Transitioning, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: An anthology of sorts--Jughead grows up and Archie is there every step of the way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> semi inspired by anon who prompted "coming out," for a jarchie fic. i had this idea kicking around for a while though, and ultimately i'm pretty pleased with it. i really hope i've handed jug's pre-transition stuff well, and if you have any constructive criticism please feel free to share!
> 
> anywho, enjoy!

When they first meet, Jughead is still called ‘Forsythia’ and Archie thinks girls have cooties.

They become pretty fast friends, in spite of both of those things.

 

“You look sad.”

Forsythia Jones looks up with a sniffle. “S’cuz I _am_ sad.” She drops her gaze back to the ground.

“Why?”

Forsythia watches the red head flop beside her, watches the way _he_ watches curiously. “My mom made me wear this stupid dress to school.” She pulls at the hem of her dress; it’s soft, the fabric is nice, but the print is soft pinks and yellow daises. She hates it.

“I think it’s a nice dress,” he tells her seriously. “I’m sorry you don’t like it though.” He reaches out and pats her knee. “I’m Archie Andrews.”

Forsythia eyes him suspiciously. “My name is Forsythia.”

Archie’s eyes widen. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

Forsythia purses her lips. “It’s a stupid name,” she declares. “I hate it, more than I hate this dress.”

Archie stares.

Forsythia shrugs and starts to play with the gravel around them. She toys with the laces of her shoes and wonders if she spills juice on her dress, if she could get a spare change of clothes from the lost and found. She sighs and rests her arms on knees, and her pillows her head on top.

“I’m sorry,” Archie says again. “What name do you want?”

“I dunno,” she mumbles.

“Pick one!” He pats her shoulder this time and looks pleased as punch. “Whatever you want.”

Forsythia thinks about it long and hard; she closes her eyes and tries to think of the best name she can. Eventually, she sighs. “I dunno,” she says again.

“I’ll think on it,” Archie declares. “We’ll come up with something good.”

 

They do. No one really understands it, least of all her parents, but she loves it. Loves the name more than she can really understand.

When any adult leans down and coos, asking her name, she proudly replies, “Jughead Jones. The third!”

 

 

 

“Jug?”

“I hate this,” she says sourly.

Archie frowns at her. “Was it that bad? Mine was boring.”

Jughead hides her face in her hands. “It’s stupid.” The informational slides flash behind her eyelids, and the drone of the teacher rings in her ears. She’s not even sure how much she really took in from the class, but she feels sick to her stomach regardless.

“It’s not,” Archie assures her. “It _was_ gross.”

She hiccups a laugh and wipes at her watery eyes. “Yeah,” she says as she looks up. “Super gross.” She can’t shake the feelings (sadness, discomfort, anger, uncertainty) the sex-ed class saddled her with, but Archie makes things better. “I’m glad yours was gross too.”

Archie nods fervently. “Kissing looks weird.” He makes an exaggerated face and exclaims, “yuck!”

It rouses another giggle from Jughead, and she finally feels okay enough to stand. “Wanna play on the swings?”

“Duh. Contest to see who can jump the furthest?”

Jughead rolls her eyes. “Duh!”

 

Later, when they’ve both tumbled off the swing a dozen of times and are laying in the grass to catch their breath, Archie takes Jughead’s hand. He tells her she’s not gross, and she tells him the same. Jughead still doesn’t feel quite right, but she doesn’t feel so wrong either.

 

 

 

“I figured it out,” Jughead announces the minute Archie opens his bedroom door. Mr. Andrews had let Jughead in, pointed up the stairs to a room Jughead knew well.

Archie blinks, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep. “What? Figured what out?”

Jughead practically vibrates with excitement. “I’m not a girl!”

Archie’s reaction is, to say the least, a bit disappointing. “Well, yeah, I’ve always kind of known that. You’re Jughead.”

Jughead sighs and pushes into Archie’s room. “No, you don’t understand.” Standing in the middle of the room, Jughead sighs again, heavier and louder. “I’m—there’s a word for it. Do you have your laptop?”

Archie nods, still not entirely awake. He shuffles over to his desk and opens his laptop. It takes a long moment to boot up, eventually pulling up to where Archie can enter his password. The minute he presses enter, Jughead shoves him aside and starts to type rapidly.

“Look,” Jughead mutters, “look at this!”

Archie leans over Jug’s shoulder and peers at the Wikipedia page pulled up. “Transgender?”

“Read it!”

So, Archie does. “Transgender people are people who have a gender identity or gender expression that differs from their assigned sex.” He stands up straight again and looks at Jughead as curiously as he did that first day on the playground. “I don’t know if I get it.”

Jughead groans and takes Archie by the wrist and pulls him toward the bed. They sit down together, and Jughead’s expression turns serious, more somber.

“It means I’m not a freak, it means there are other people like me.” Jughead swallows nervously. “It means I’m really a boy, even if I didn’t—even if I’m different.”

Archie’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jughead laughs, “oh.”

 

Archie is the first person Jughead tells; two weeks after that fateful day, Jughead comes out to the rest of his family and it’s not half as hard as he expected. He tells them about pronouns, about the things they say that make him uncomfortable. He directs them to sites upon sites with information on transgender kids, and when they hug him soundly, Jughead cries.

 

 

 

“Are you awake?”

Archie mumbles something that’s meant to be a ‘yes.’

“Can I tell you something?”

“Go for it,” Archie replies. He rustles around in his sleeping bag to turn toward Jughead, where he sleeps a few feet away.

“I think I’m asexual.”

A yawn interrupts his response. “Yeah?”

“I don’t like sex.”

“You haven’t even had sex.”

Jughead glares at his best friend. “I still don’t like it.” He swallows, mouth too dry and throat sore. “It’s gross, and scary, and it’s all people talk about. I hate it.” He sinks deeper into his own sleeping bag. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

When Archie speaks, he’s much closer than before and nearly startles Jughead to death. “No, I’m glad you told me.” Archie settles back down, his and Jughead’s bags pressed up together. “Tell me about it, like when you did before.”

Jughead slowly looks up from trying to burrow into his pillow. “Is that okay?”

Archie nods. “I might fall asleep. Kick me if I do. Keep talking until you’ve told me everything.” He grins at Jughead. “I wanna know it all.”

 

So Jughead does.

 

 

 

“You’re staring.”

“You’re shirtless.”

Jughead shifts impatiently. “This is weird,” he says as he reaches for his shirt.

“Well!” Archie exclaims, though he does move to stop Jughead. A gentle hand around his wrist to keep him from redressing. “You’re the one who barged in here and ripped his shirt off.”

Jughead pinks in the cheeks. “You’re always the first person I tell.”

Archie lets go of Jughead’s wrist and sits back down. “This seems more like a show than a tell.”

“If you’re gonna be an ass, I’m just going to leave.” Jughead turns away and pulls his shirt to his chest; doesn’t pull it on, but clings to it like a security blanket.

“Jughead, wait.” Archie stands again but doesn’t move toward his friend. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. C’mon, show me.”

“No, it’s weird.”

“You got surgery, it’s not weird. I’m sorry, you just surprised me. It’s not every day my best friend waltz into my room and starts getting naked.”

Jughead shakes with a brief chortle. “Yeah, that’s my bad.”

Archie doesn’t sit back down. “Are you happy with it?” He asks instead, staring at all the moles scattered like stars across Jug’s back. He'd known Jughead was getting top surgery--Archie was the first person to know. It's one thing to know about the surgery and another to see the results, standing right in front of him. It's different to see his friend simultaneously relieved and more stressed than ever.

“Beyond belief,” Jughead replies, voice cracking. “It feels… I can’t even tell you, Arch. It’s unbelievable.” Jughead shivers. “It feels so right.”

“Show me,” Archie asks again. “If you still want to.”

“Yeah.” Jughead lets his arms fall to his sides. “Give me a minute.”

Archie nods even though Jughead can’t see it. “I’ll be here.”

Far longer than a minute passes until finally Jughead turns again. He holds out his arms, eyes closed and face still blotchy red.

Archie looks—really looks, this time. He’s see Jughead shirtless before, but he’s never seen his best friend without a binder before. There’s no longer the lines of flesh colored fabric shaping Jughead’s body, instead there are faint scars along the underside of his pectorals. The skin is still flushed, still healing, but it moves with the rise and fall of Jughead’s chest.

“Jughead,” Archie says in a single exhale. In the back of his head, he wonders if it should feel uncomfortable to stare at his best friend like this, quiet and intimate. He decides he doesn’t really care. “Wow.”

“I know.” Jughead fidgets under the scrutiny, but he looks pleased. “It’s so weird. It’s literally like having a weight off my chest.”

Archie laughs. “It looks great, Jug. Does it still hurt?”

“It’s a little tender, but otherwise it’s fine. Post-op wasn’t actually that bad.” Jughead shivers again and finally pulls his shirt back on. As the fabric settles, he looks down at his chest and grins wide and bright. “Look at that,” he says, only partly directed at Archie. He looks up and his eyes are shining.

“Jug,” Archie admonishes teasingly. “If you cry, I’m gonna cry.”

 

They do cry, but they laugh too.

 

 

 

“I’m not a girl.”

“Jug, I’ve known that since we were _six_.”

Jughead still won’t look at him. “I don’t want sex.”

“I’ve known _that_ since we were sixteen!” Archie doesn’t throw his arms in the air and he doesn’t sigh in frustration. He barely reigns it in, but he manages. “You’re acting like you’re some enigma to me, when you’re really not.”

Jughead scoffs. “This isn’t—you have no idea what it’s like to deal with this.”

“We’ve been friends for almost twenty years, why is it different now that I want to date?” Archie reaches out for Jughead but stops short.

“It, it just _is_.”

“What are you afraid of?” Archie asks, voice softening.

“Who said I’m afraid of anything?” Jughead snaps back.

Archie doesn’t roll his eyes. He finally gives in to the urge to each out and touch Jughead. He takes him by the shoulder with one hand. He doesn’t pull Jughead toward him or even make his best friend look at him. He just lays his hand on Jughead’s shoulder, warm and waiting, squeezing every so often like a reminder.

Jughead’s still shaking.

“C’mon. We tell each other everything.”

“Says the guy who just told me he’s in love with me, and has been for ‘he doesn’t even know how long.’” Jughead barely looks over his shoulder.

“It took me a while, but I still told you. I was scared, of—of this.” Archie gestures between them. He doesn’t let on how pleased he is that when his hand falls, Jughead finally turns to face him. “I was scared of you not feeling the same way, or this ruining our friendship.”

“It’s not gonna ruin our friendship.”

“Could’ve fooled me!” Archie’s voice rises briefly but settles by the time he speaks again. “I get it if you don’t feel the same way. I can handle that. I don’t want to lose you again, Jug, so tell me what I can do to make this right.”

Jughead’s arms cross over his chest so tight it looks painful. He’s condensed, body drawn taut with tension. He’s shaking, hell practically _vibrating_ with unease. “There’s nothing.”

Archie closes his mouth fast and hard, catches his tongue between his teeth and winces at the burst of pain. His chest feels like there’s a gaping hole where his heart was, where his lungs were. He blinks rapidly and tries to remember how to breathe.

“Jughead, I—?”

“There’s nothing you can say to fix this because I…” Jughead hides his face in his hands. “Cuz maybe there’s nothing that’s broken.”

“Jughead, you’re getting all poetic on me. You’re losing me.” Archie’s voice cracks in the middle of his words but he’s grinning around them.

Jughead drops his hands to his sides and the glare he aims at the ceiling is especially vicious. “I love you too.” He swallows. “I’m terrified out of my mind that you’re gonna see the reality of what dating me means, and head for the hills, but… I love you too.”

Archie takes a hesitant step closer.

“I’m scared you’re gonna see the times when I can’t even get out of bed, or the times when I can’t stand to look at myself, and you’re gonna realize what a nutcase I am. I’m scared you’re gonna realize what a relationship with an asexual person really means, and regret it when—when I can’t give you what you want.”

“I don’t want anything you don’t want.”

Jughead shakes his head. “That’s not true. You like sex, and that’s fine—I don’t, and that’s fine with me. I need you to be okay with that too.” He runs his hands through his hair and starts to pace. “I mean, things could change later, I don’t really know. I’ve never gotten close enough to anyone to even consider it, but I’ve read up on it and it’s not unheard of, but I can’t make any promises. You know that, right?” Jughead stops and startles when Archie is right beside him. “Fuck,” Jughead mutters.

“Okay, yeah, I like sex. You don’t. That _is_ fine. It’s okay. If that never, ever changes, that’s fine. I’ll still be here.” Archie gently lays his grip on Jughead’s arms, loose enough that Jughead can step away if he wants.

Jughead doesn’t.

 

They make mistakes. Things aren’t perfect. Jughead fucks up and Archie fucks up and they both learn from their mistakes. There’s a lot that changes between them and even more that doesn’t change in the slightest. When they tell their friends and family—person by person, taking it slow—no one is surprised. It’d be annoying if it also weren’t a huge relief off both their chests.


End file.
